The One Who's Waiting for You
by tacotits
Summary: Mōri had never been one to worry about other people, much less his "rival," Chōsokabe. But when said rival asks him for his hand in marriage out of the blue, Mōri doesn't know what to think. Gakuen AU, Chōsokabe/Mōri
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This fic is based off the official-ish Sengoku Basara Gakuen manga, where Mōri is the head of the Wind Instrument Club, and Chōsokabe is the leader of the school's biker gang. Other than a few details of my own that I threw in for fun (Tsuruhime appearance for example), I tried to stay fairly loyal to the manga._

**The One Who's Waiting for You**

Mōri Motonari withheld a sigh as he met the eyes of the bubbly girl who fidgeted across from him. Normally he abstained from speaking with other students outside the Wind Instrument Club, but this girl, along with Chōsokabe Motochika, made up the two exceptions.

"Motonari-kun! Ever since we were kids, you've always been brutally honest with me—sometimes too brutal—but still! I need to ask you something, and I need you to give me your honest opinion, okay?" Tsuruhime was a first year in Class Three, arguably one of the more popular girls, and also Mōri's childhood friend.

The sigh he had been trying so hard to hold back finally escaped his lips, and Mōri scowled. Him, Motochika and Tsuruhime had all grown up in the same small neighborhood, and like any other kids with nothing better to do, had gotten up to all kinds of mischief. Motochika was the one with the ideas, Mōri was the one who planned it all out to work smoothly, and Tsuruhime was the cute face that allowed them to pull it off. Although the three rarely associated with each other anymore—even if Mōri happened to be interested in people, he always kept himself busy with school, his club, and his part-time job; Motochika was the head of a biker gang; and Tsuruhime was often out with her female friends when she wasn't in Archery club—Mōri still felt enough loyalty to listen to Tsuruhime's request.

"Go ahead and ask your question," he responded, crossing his arms. Perhaps it was obligation rather than loyalty, but either way, whatever feeling it happened to be, it was fading quickly.

At his words, the overly excited girl leaned forward to the edge of her seat and peered at him with large brown eyes before asking in a worried voice: "Do you think I'm cute?"

The expression on Mōri's lips became what could only be described as a straight line, and he took a deep breath before responding. "If I were to be attracted to women—"

"Wh-Are you gay, Motonari-kun?" Tsuruhime's interruption made Mōri question why he had even bothered with her in the first place.

"…If I were to find human beings attractive…" Mōri continued, pausing for a moment to check if the girl who was wasting so much of his time with was following along.

"It's not just attractive, Motonari-kun! It has to be cute! If I'm not cute, I don't know if he'll like me!"

Of course this irritating matter all boiled down to the fact that Tsuruhime was not confident enough to talk to some boy that she had a crush on. Why Mōri had not guessed earlier was surprising. Further talk informed Mōri that the boy was from the Newspaper club, and was the quiet type—he always showed up to watch Tsuruhime's archery games, but never said anything to her directly. She wasn't sure if he was interested or not, despite the fact that he only showed up when she was up to shoot, and left after she was done. It was obvious to Mōri from the beginning that he must have _some_ interest in her, and she prodded him with more questions upon hearing this.

"So is he just to quiet and shy to ask me out? Those guys are really cute—just like how Motochika-kun is too shy to ask you out and just picks fights with you instead—" Tsuruhime clamped her hands over her mouth with a terrified expression. "I mean-! Forget I said that, hahaha!" She laughed in a terribly awkward manner as Mōri stared.

The scowl on Mōri's face deepened, but the wheels in his mind were turning as Tsuruhime skittered off. A crush, huh? There were an endless number of ways that Mōri could use that to his advantage. He would have to remember that for the future.

* * *

School days passed, and Mōri failed to find a moment where he could hold Chōsokabe's silly crush over his head. Instead, he found himself preoccupied thinking about how Chōsokabe could even begin to waste his time with such feelings. Now, Mōri wasn't one to let his thoughts linger, especially when thinking of a punk who he considered to be more of an irritation than anything else, but he couldn't help but think of his old childhood friend between classes, or on his bike ride to school.

He was reminded of meMōries that he had long since pushed from his mind. Once they had been irrelevant, but now Mōri couldn't help but wonder. There was one afternoon when smaller versions of Mōri, Chōsokabe and Tsuruhime had all been playing together, and Chōsokabe had startled his other two playmates with a loud declaration.

"When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Motonari!"

The other two had simply stared at him until one expression changed to a pout, and the other a scoff.

"That's not fair, Motochika-Kun! You're suppose to marry me!" Tsuruhime glared at him with the biggest frown her tiny face could manage, offended that the most rambunctious of the three would be interested in another boy before her.

"Nope! It has to be Motonari! Right?" Motochika gave the smallest of the three children a little nudge with his elbow.

Mōri adjusted his glasses and responded in a very dignified manner. "Two men cannot get married, Motochika."

Chōsokabe pursed his lips with exasperation. "Why does that even matter? You're a girl, Motonari."

The fight that followed resulted with a shocked Chōsokabe declaring that he would marry Mōri whether he was a girl or not, Mōri downright refusing the proposition, and Tsuruhime being outraged that she was still being left out of the equation.

Thinking back, Mōri was glad that he rarely associated with those two idiots anymore.

* * *

Mōri watched rainwater overflow the gutter and pool onto the sidewalk with a forlorn look as he tried to avoid getting wet under the shelter for bikes next to his school. Thankfully he did not have work this afternoon, so he could afford to wait for the storm to pass, but he really wished to rain would let up already so that he could get home. What a waste of his time.

"Well if it isn't Mōri." The sudden voice startled Mōri, and he took a moment to turn around with the cool air of indifference to try and hide the fact that he had jumped slightly. The snicker that escaped from the intruder's mouth informed him that he had not been successful.

Chōsokabe Motochika stood not too far away, the light dusting of droplets on his hair and uniform suggesting that he had only recently come out into the rain to retrieve his motorcycle. "Afraid of a little water?" That tone and that smirk, tch, Mōri tightened his grip on his school bag and opened his mouth to retort when he noticed something off about Chōsokabe. The smirk may have been on his lips but Mōri certainly couldn't see it reflected in his lone eye. Further, he was carrying a helmet under his arm. There had never been a time when Mōri had known Chōsokabe to worry about safety.

"Hey Mōri." This time the tone of his voice was different—it lacked the sarcasm from before and instead almost seemed nervous. "Let me take you home on my bike."

Was this, a request? A request from the leader of the school's delinquents, the man who sought to bow his head to no one? Mōri's eyes narrowed as he looked from Chōsokabe's face to the bike helmet he was carrying. If he had any ounce of humanity, surely he would acknowledge that something was amiss with his fellow student and accept his offer without hesitation.

Mōri took a deep breath before giving his answer.

"Not interested."

Chōsokabe's posture sagged and he let out a groan. "C'mon, Mōri! You can get out of the rain faster, and I'll even lend you my super rad jacket to keep you dry!" He brandished the jacket that always hung over his shoulders with pride—it read "The Rampaging Demon of Onigashima" on the back along with various other overly dramatic kanji compounds that were intended to make him look tough. Mōri's nose scrunched when he spotted a place where the wrong kanji had been used. "I even brought a bike helmet just for you."

Between the puppy dog eye that Chōsokabe was giving him, and the helmet he had obviously gone out of his way to obtain, Mōri began to wonder just how premeditated this had been. Curiosities aside, Chōsokabe did not look like he was going to back down anytime soon, and Mōri didn't feel the sudden desire to waste the entire evening cornered under the bike shelter.

"Very well, but you are to relocate any and all activities that involve you revving your bike's engines afterschool to a place far from the Music Hall." He crossed his arms in a finalized manner, looking at Chōsokabe from over the top of his glasses.

"Alright," Chōsokabe replied with a curt nod.

Mōri froze, eyes widened in shock. His "rival" had not even paused to ask how long the conditions would last for. Mōri could have well set the limit to the end of the school year, and it seemed as if this delinquent would not even care. All that was left to do was accept the helmet with slightly shaky hands before stepping out from under the bike shelter. Something had made Chōsokabe serious, and Mōri, who rarely cared about anything but his own goals, could not help but wonder what.

* * *

The motorcycle ride was uncomfortable for Mōri, if only because of the close proximity to Chōsokabe. His legs and chest were pushed flush with the white haired man, and his arms had to be wrapped securely around the other's middle. At first Mōri had tried to hold onto the back of the motorcycle seat, and then Chōsokabe's shoulders, anything to keep a bit of distance, but to no avail. As soon as the bike started moving, his hands had gone for Chōsokabe's waist for fear of falling off.

They finally pulled to a stop in front of a small park that Mōri recalled playing in as a child. Despite it being early afternoon, the grey sky made it look like evening. The patter of rain droplets on the trees and the empty park was slightly comforting to Mōri—he knew that no one else would be out on a day like this.

"C'mon." Chōsokabe ushered the shorter of the two off the bike and up a trail further into the park.

Figuring it would be a waste of time to see what he had planned at this point, Mōri followed him up the trail in silence. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to be dragged along one of the delinquent's crazy adventures? Though he still looked at the biker jacket that walked in front of him with scrutiny, the silence between the two made everything seem so much more somber. Surely this was more than some scheme to make the perfectionist look like a fool. But what then was the goal? Taking a turn, Chōsokabe lead them off the path and through the mud to an oak tree that stood secluded on the top of a hill. Mōri lamented the fate of his loafers.

Despite being under a tree, enough water had dropped from leaf to leaf to make the ground into a sticky mud. Brushing a few drops off his uniform, Mōri looked over at the man who had brought him here. The two shared a silent look before Chōsokabe broke out into a smile. Such an action unnerved Mōri, simply because it seemed so _genuine. _Not a smirk, or a sardonic grin, but a genuine smile, which he followed up with leaning down in the mud on one knee, and digging for something in his pocket.

Mōri could feel himself pale. Th-this, this couldn't be what he thought it was. But sure enough, Chōsokabe dug a tiny black box out of his pocket, and opened it up to reveal a slim golden ring. He caught Mōri's brown eyes with a strong gaze from his own eye, and opened his mouth to ask.

"Mōri Motonari, will you marry me?"

The chill from the rain soaked into Mōri's flesh, and the stare from that one eye kept him rooted in one spot. All his life, he had never imagined that such a scene would occur. Surely Chōsokabe had promised some such nonsense long ago, but they had both been but children. After how far apart they had grown, and all their fighting, Mōri could not even fathom why Chōsokabe would ask a question like that now. And the ring looked like it was the real thing. He hadn't stolen it, had he?

"O-of course not," Mōri stammered as he adjusted his glasses in some attempt to hide his embarrassment.

"What about in the future, after we graduate?" Chōsokabe asked, undeterred.

"My answer remains no."

Chōsokabe stood up and gave one last glance toward the ring before pocketing it once more with a sigh. "That's too bad; you would have looked so beautiful in a wedding kimino."

Mōri bristled at this comment. "And who says that I would be the one wearing the kimono?"

"Oh c'mon," Chōsokabe was grinning again, though it hadn't lost that genuine look from before. "I think you would look really, really stunning in a woman's kimono. Your figure is perfect for it."

Mōri's face reddened slightly, and he decided to take a different tactic. "As if I would change my last name for you."

"But that would be perfect too! Then we would be Chōsokabe Motochika, and Chōsokabe Motonari. With only one kanji difference, we could be like a matching set." His grin was goofy, and Mōri couldn't help but be perplexed by how overjoyed Chōsokabe looked.

"What even brought this about anyway? It couldn't be because you suddenly remembered that promise you had made when we were children."

"Did I promise to marry you when we were kids?" Chōsokabe asked with a laugh, though he seemed to sober with Mōri's question. "I had completely forgotten about that actually."

"Then why waste my time with this?"

Scratching the back of his head, Chōsokabe looked away with his one eye. "It's a long story actually…"

Mōri simply crossed his arms and stared with his best glare. He would get to the bottom of this now so that he would not have to worry about it ever again.

"Alright, alright," He sighed again before launching into his story. "There was one night after that fight we had at the baseball game. I couldn't stop thinking about how much you had changed since we were kids. I mean, you've always been a bit of a prick, but somehow you had managed to become a Grade A asshole. Anyway, I was planning to follow you home and then play tricks on you when you were sleeping, but when you got home, all the lights were off. I was surprised because you didn't bother turning any of the lights on except your room. I waited and waited, and finally around one or two in the morning you turned your light off, but then before I could do anything I saw your old man come home. He was totally wasted, and didn't even bother turning on the lights either. Your mom came home not to long after that. I figured I had missed my chance, so I came back the next night, but the same thing happened.

"That's when I got to thinking, your parents were never home when you were a kid, were they? And you don't have any siblings like Tsuruhime and I have to look after you either. A lot of the kids at school think you're a prick because you were some spoiled rich kid, but I know differently. You grew up in the same shitty neighborhood as Tsuruhime and I, you just never had anyone to support you or look after you. When we all started to grow distant, you never made new friends, did you? You just kept coming back to a dark empty house day after day. When I was thinking about that it just crushed me on the inside. You deserved someone waiting for you at home just like the rest of us. So that's when I decided that I would become that person for you, Mōri. I want to be the person who's always waiting for you."

* * *

Mōri lay on his bed as the rain drizzled outside. The ride back from the park had been uncomfortable; Chōsokabe had poured his heart out to him and Mōri had been left dumbstruck. He never worried about the feelings of others, so when someone else started worrying so intensely about his feelings he just didn't know what to do. Someone waiting from him at home, eh? It seemed like it would just be another annoyance, really, but having never known such a thing, he couldn't help but be just a bit curious about what it would be like.

* * *

Wind Instrument Club's practice the next day went quietly and without a hitch, leaving Mōri to assume that Chōsokabe had kept his promise, at least for one day. After packing up his things, he headed out to where his bike was locked up, only to find a cheery delinquent waiting for him just outside.

"Hey Mōri," he greeted with a smile.

Mōri chose to simply ignore him and keep walking. Chōsokabe followed behind though, far enough away that he wouldn't get in Mōri's way, but close enough to chatter about some insignificant matters for the few minutes it took to get to the school's bike racks. He waited until Mōri had unlocked his bike before telling him a quick "Have a good day!" and waving as he headed off in a different direction. Mōri didn't watch him leave, but noted that he had managed to insert his presence into Mōri's life without disturbing his routine.

This happened the next day, and the day after. When it failed to happen on the Monday that followed, Mōri paused at the entrance of the Music Building to quickly glance back and forth for any sign of Chōsokabe before cursing himself for even expecting such a thing and hurrying to his bike.

The day following, Chōsokabe was waiting again. Mōri responded to his happy greeting with a quick glare before heading back towards the main school buildings and up towards the library. It was his day off again, and seeing as he had a test on Friday, he figured he could study while the school was still open. When he sat down at one of the tables in the library, Chōsokabe, who had followed him with a curious look, sat down beside him. At the sight of the pile of notebooks Mōri pulled out of his book bag, Chōsokabe yawned quietly and lay his head down on his arms in an attempt to take a nap.

When Chōsokabe finally picked up his head an hour later, Mōri was still hard at work. He didn't glance over as Chōsokabe stretched in his seat, or began rustling through his things. Nor did he appear to notice when his own stomach began to grumble. Hunger was something Mōri had long since learned to ignore, besides he rarely had time to pack himself a lunch and buying one was far too expensive. He did just fine on one or two meals a day.

"You hungry?" It seemed that Chōsokabe was not one to ignore a grumbling stomach though.

When Mōri failed to reply, his stomach spoke for him with further grumbling. The man sitting at his right snickered a little before digging around in his things once more to produce a rice ball. He set it down next to Mōri with the offer, "here."

Mōri ignored the rice ball and continued to look over his notes.

Frowning slightly, Chōsokabe pushed the rice ball closer to Mōri, and fixed him with a stare from his one big blue eye. When Mōri ignored this too, Chōsokabe picked up the rice ball and unwrapped it before setting it down directly in front of Mōri. He knew he was successful when Mōri sighed and set down his pencil. The first bite made the brunette frown.

"Just how much salt is on this? Really, Chōsokabe, your mother must have no taste buds."

"I made it myself actually. If you have any hopes of becoming a great strong Japanese man, you have to eat heartily! So I always pack lots of food for myself and enough to share with the rest of the boys." He seemed proud enough of his cooking skills.

Mōri replied with a "tch" but ate the rest of the rice ball slowly, his mind distracted by the thought of Chōsokabe making a mountain of rice balls. He wondered if the idiot ever started while the rice was still hot from the rice cooker and burned himself. It would be oddly cute, he thought.

* * *

When it was lunch time the next day, Chōsokabe appeared out of nowhere to deposit a neatly wrapped bento on Mōri's textbook covered desk. "Since you seem a little too stupid to feed yourself properly I figured I would do you a favor and make you something. Return the box and the _furoshiki_ to me before tomorrow or I won't make you another." With that message, he turned on his heel and left Mōri to his typical solitude.

The bento was simple, with a layer of rice in the bottom container, and variety of small portions of food on the top. There was a tiny little cherry tomato, some _daikon_, a little bit of fruit, and what looked like two small balls of meat with some sort of sauce. Picking up the meat hesitantly with the chopsticks Chōsokabe provided, Mōri gave it a small look over before plopping it into his mouth. Regret was instantaneous and Mōri almost spit the meat out, instead going for his rice as quickly as possible. What kind of sauce was on this? It made the food impossibly spicy, and not even worth bothering with. Mōri was cautious with the rest of bento, but it seemed that the meat was the only thing that was dangerous. Aside from that though, Mōri had to admit, it hadn't been that bad.

Mōri exited the Music Building that afternoon with the bento in hand. He passed it to a waiting Chōsokabe. "I would avoid the sauce you used on the meat next time." Chōsokabe's only response was to grin; he knew that Mōri would be expecting more bento in the future.

A few weeks passed, and Chōsokabe managed to make a fresh bento for Mōri every single school day. Though he would occasionally sit at the empty desk next to Mōri and chat a little before handing over his handmade food, typical days consisted of him dropping the neatly wrapped parcel off without much more than a quick greeting and a huge smile. Little by little, Mōri was becoming accustomed to Chōsokabe in his life. Part of it was that the delinquent managed to be useful without being too much of a nuisance, and he never stayed for too long. But those brief encounters were more than enough for a very attention starved Mōri—he hated to admit it, but he started looking forward to those little interactions.

* * *

Mōri's stomach grumbled uncomfortably as the first lunch period where Choskabe failed to show up ended. He cursed him for leaving him hanging, and himself for becoming too dependent. His body could survive just fine without lunch, but now that it was accustomed to being fed, the long wait until school's end was uncomfortable.

He stalked out of his last class with an air of frustration, determined to get to Wind Instrument Club and get it over with so that he could go to work where he could hopefully get a snack. In this moment of frustration, he happened to see a figure huddled against one of the back walls of the school building. On a normal day, Mōri wouldn't have spared the stranger another glance, and on a day like today, when he was already irritated, he cursed the figure for stealing his attention, if only for a moment. That was, until he realized the figure was wearing a beaten purple jacket, and had silver hair. Chōsokabe looked like he had been under a lawnmower and then pummeled repeatedly with rocks—his lower lip and good eye were swelling, and there were bruises and scrapes all over. Mōri could even spot blood on his normally white shirt. Eye contact was made, and for a moment Mōri stood rooted in his spot, looking the silver haired boy up and down.

Then he turned on his heels, and left.

With a scowl now prominent on his features, Chōsokabe closed his good eye, and went back to resting against the brick building. Getting into fights was no big deal. He was frustrated that he had lost (it had been six against one) and even more frustrated that the fight had started just before lunch, making him miss his window of opportunity to interact with Mōri. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that the latter of the two had chosen to ignore his condition. Mōri did have his club to get to after all, and Chōsokabe decided he was foolish to think that he had started to soften the other, if even a little.

Chōsokabe wasn't one to lie around licking his wounds, but he knew his gang would demand names if they saw him in such a state and Chōsokabe didn't really want to start some sort of weird grudge war between his bunch and the other hooligans that wandered the school. Going home like this also meant a heavy scolding from his family. His mother would worry and fret, and his older brother would ask him how he could be so stupid to not bandage himself up. In the end, it was safest to chill here until the school emptied out. He would leave once most of his hang had gone home, and then ride around until it was late enough that he could sneak back into the house undetected. He shifted to a more comfortable position, and settled in for a long nap just before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Worried that it was more idiots, Chōsokabe's one eye snapped open, only to realize the approaching figure was Mōri.

But even then, Mōri was a bit of a cause for alarm. What was he doing here when Chōsokabe knew quite distinctly that he was supposed to be directing the Wind Instrument Club? The shorter of the two crouched down and opened a first aid kit that Chōsokabe didn't remember him carrying before.

"You know I'm quite disappointed in you," he began as he picked through the box, looking for the disinfectant. "I didn't expect you to ever get beaten by anyone but me. What a shame."

"Hey, you can only beat me with music," Chōsokabe tried to chuckle but it only came out sounding pained as Mōri cleaned out his cuts. He wanted desperately to ask why Mōri was here and not at his club, but what if such a question would drive the other away? Instead he inquired about the first aid kit.

"This? Even fools should know that Akechi-Sensei keeps plenty of spares on the school infirmary," Mōri replied nonchalantly.

"W-whu, you braved going to such a place?" Chōsokabe paled at the mention of the school nurse; even a demon such as himself found the man disturbing.

A smirk appeared on Mōri's lips at the first sight of the injured man's fright, and he went on to explain that Mitsuhide was a fantastic doctor, and though he seemed delighted that Mōri had come seeking his aid, he seemed to lose all interest as soon as the student had told him that there was no blood at the scene. Chōsokabe noted his numerous cuts and the blood smeared on his shirt, and thanked the gods that Mōri was on his side.

Finally bandaged up, Chōsokabe stood with a grin. "Thanks for patching me up there, Mōri. I feel good as new."

Mōri faked distain. "It was not a favor. Instead, think of it as a loan, which I intend to collect in the future."

"Well let's hope it's far in the future, because I'm not going anywhere." Their gazes locked, and for that moment, Mōri swore that his heart stopped. Something about the way those words came out so _genuinely_ and how bright his smile was. Mōri could tell that Chōsokabe was being playful, but even more so he was being honest. All it took was a single moment, and Mōri was left terrified. Terrified that this other man would continue to slowly dig his way to Mōri's heart, like a parasite, and nestle himself a home, leaving Mōri unable to push him away.


	2. Chapter 2

**The One Who's Waiting for You**

_Chapter 2_

Not many days had passed since their last encounter and here Chōsokabe was, standing in front of Mōri's workplace. For the longest time, he had avoided following Mōri to work because he didn't want to push too much. Interacting once, and then twice a day had been enough for him, and at the same time little enough that he wouldn't overwhelm Mōri. But Chōsokabe felt like they had finally gotten to a point where it would be okay to push a little harder, and after all, he was terribly curious about what kind of place would hire the conductor of the Wind Instrument Club. True, he had a fantastic work ethic, but with a personality so sour, Chōsokabe couldn't imagine Mōri working under _anyone_.

And yet here he was, standing in front of a coffee shop. It was small and kind of tucked out of the way in a side alley, but that didn't stop the place from having customers. It was one of those hip joints where people came to get away from the city, working on laptops, reading books, or chatting with a few friends. The brick walls covered with old records gave the place a very new urban feel.

At first, Chōsokabe didn't even notice Mōri. But then his eye spotted him standing behind the counter. His face was mostly blank but tinted with a bit of his usual scowl, he was wearing an apron with the shop's logo printed boldly on the front, and his hair was mostly pulled back in a small pony tail and pinned out of the way. He didn't notice Chōsokabe either, keeping his eyes downward even when the delinquent approached the counter.

"One tall iced coffee, with extra cool!" Slamming his hand down on the counter, Chōsokabe gave Mōri one of the crazy grins that had inspired so many of his gang members to follow him into battle.

The way Mōri startled and looked up at him with huge eyes only made his grin widen. "What are you doing here," he practically hissed.

"Aww don't be such a stranger," the taller cooed in response, now leaning on the counter. Mōri's female coworker, who had a pin that read "Manager" on her apron, and who had been watching Chōsokabe with slight worry up to this point, looked like she was about to step in. Chōsokabe only smiled at her as Mōri handed him his coffee. "Don't worry too much. I won't distract him from work."

She seemed hesitant at first, but as soon as Chōsokabe sat down and got her talking, she was quite open and excitable. It seemed that she had been worried that Chōsokabe was a no good punk at first, but the more he talked, the more she realized he was a good kid. As the manager, she had been the one to hire Mōri. Though she had been worried about his disposition at first, as soon as she had tried the coffee he made, she knew that she _had _to hire him. The regular customers had picked up on this as well, and they knew to ignore his indifference. Chōsokabe spent most of Mōri's shift chatting it up with his coworker or the occasional customer while Mōri quietly seethed behind the counter. Chōsokabe took note of this, but figured there wasn't much he could do about it besides wait until the shift was over and they were alone so he could question Mōri. Hopefully the other wasn't just displeased with his presence, because he had really enjoyed seeing Mōri wearing an apron with his hair pinned back.

When the shift finally ended, Chōsokabe followed Mōri to the main street before venturing to ask why he was so pissed. Mōri had turned around slowly, and seemed to fixate on his shirt before glaring him down. "Are you really such a slob that you don't notice it?" He paused for just long enough to make Chōsokabe wonder if he was supposed to reply before continuing. "There's still blood on your shirt from the other day. Not only does that make me wonder if you even bother to launder your clothes, but it certainly makes everyone who sees you think you are nothing more than an ignorant street punk."

"Of course I washed it! Who do you think I am?!" Chōsokabe began, slightly offended. "The blood just won't come out, is all!"

"Blood stains clothes, you imbecile." When said imbecile just stared at him, Mōri let out a small sigh. "I suppose it can't be helped. You will come with me to my house, and I'll clean your shirt properly."

Dumbstruck, Chōsokabe only responded with a small nod. Normally, he would fight back a little, especially at the imbecile comment, but Mōri had just invited him over, something that hadn't happened since they were kids, and even then only because Chōsokabe and Tsuruhime had forced him into it.

* * *

Chōsokabe was thankful for the fact that the sun hadn't yet set because he feared otherwise it would be impossible to see anything in that dark house. Removing his _jikatabi_ he followed Mōri down a blackened hallway and into a small washroom where Mōri turned around to face him, and demanded that he remove his top.

"Err, what was that, bro?" For the first time, Chōsokabe blessed the darkness; his blush was hidden for now.

"I can wash your shirt while you are still wearing it if you would like." Though the brunette's voice came out with its usual bite, Chōsokabe could catch a hint of amusement there too.

Being careful to avoid dislodging the chains around his neck, he pulled the stained article up and over his head before passing it over to Mōri, who waited with a bottle of some kind of stain remover in one hand. Chōsokabe watched silently as he/Mori rubbed a blue gel into the red splotches on the fabric with much expertise. Keeping Considering Mōri's ridiculously huge sleeves in mind, he realized that it was no surprise that Mōri was practiced at getting stains out of white clothing.

Once this was finished, the garment was tossed into the washing machine, and the two headed up a narrow flight of stairs to Mōri's room. The lights were flicked on, and Chōsokabe's eye took a moment to adjust to how bright the room had become. The first thing he noted was that besides the overhead light, Mōri had a standing lamp, one of those plug- in nightlights, and not one, but _two_ desk lamps. With the exception of a single poster for some orchestra group, the room was fairly plain otherwise—immaculately tidy, but plain. Mōri set his book bag down neatly by his desk before turning on all the remaining lamps and walking over to his dresser, apparently looking for something.

He turned around with a green t-shirt in his hands, mouth open and heavy with a half- formed word when his eyes stopped at the silver haired man's uncovered chest. Or, to be more specific, his eyes honed in on the two purple scars that reached around his side like angry fingers grabbing at his stomach. Mouth shut now, the shorter of the two briskly closed the gap between them. His hand reached toward the scars, and hovered just millimeters away from them for a moment before stroking them experimentally.

"These. How did you get them?" hHe all but demanded, looking up with fierce eyes, only to notice the distance between them.,

Oor rather, the lack thereof.

That heavy white eyebrow was lifted and his lips slightly parted as surprise echoed all over his face. Mōri could feel his face start to heat up and he watched Chōsokabe's facial expression change as if it was in slow motion. His lips remained open, but his eyebrow lost all tension, and his eye softened in a way that made it seem as if he wanted to smile. But instead there was a heavy want there, deep in that blue chasm. What was this want of Chōsokabe's? What did he need so desperately and so suddenly now that their faces lacked space between them?

Chōsokabe swallowed, and the moment was lost.

Mōri shoved the green shirt in his hands and turned around without bothering to worry about whether it would fit or not. All the heat his cheeks were emitting made his brain slow to react. What had happened there, in that moment? What was it that Chōsokabe had wanted, and why did he want to know so badly?

The remainder of the night passed in relative silence. Chōsokabe lingered in Mōri's room, exploring the nooks and crannies as Mōri worked silently on his homework at his desk. In all truth, he just wanted to avoid looking at how tight his small shirt was on the built man, or stop thinking about that quiet moment.

After that, Chōsokabe started hanging out at Mōri's house more often. He almost invited himself in the first few times, following Mōri to his front door, and putting a hand out to keep the other from closing it on his face, but eventually Mōri just left the door open for him, scolding when he took too long to get his shoes off. Originally it had been terribly boring for the one-eyed punk. Mōri would sit quietly at his desk, and do homework or compose music. And the latter was done with head phones on, so even then the air in that terribly bright room seemed to stagnate. Chōsokabe had tried doing a little of his own homework, but coupling worthless assignments with Mōri's silence just made the more rambunctious of the two depressed.

The next time he was over, he satisfied his curiosity by exploring the whole house. It was dark, and fairly tiny, so there was really not much to see, though he did manage to knock over a clock. Thankfully, the only reprimands he received from Mōri consisted of a dirty look when he finally returned to the room after exploring.

The week following, Chōsokabe was determined to find something to keep his eager hands occupied, and when Mōri's stomach grumbled, he knew just what he had to do.

Chōsokabe entered Mōri's room accompanied by the smell of hot fried rice, and a smug grin. The aroma was all it took to lure the hungry composer away from his desk and over to his western style bed so that the two could sit side by side and eat together. "Y'know, I love cooking for you so much because sometimes I think if I didn't, you would starve to death," the punk admitted between bites of rice.

"Ridiculous." Unlike his companion, Mōri waited until he had finished chewing his current bite and swallowed to reply. Chōsokabe just laughed.

* * *

It was another one of those times whenOnce again the two were hanging out on Mōri's bed—Mōri with a school book, and Chōsokabe with boredom.

"Hey, you never told me what you thought of that new meat I started using in your bento."

The out of the blue comment broke the silence that Mōri had been enjoying so much, and he chose to ignore it, hoping to return to his book.

"Hey, Mōri." Chōsokabe eyed the man who was sitting none too far away from him, well aware that he was being ignored.

It had been almost four months now since he had first begun this attempt to soften Mōri, and finally Chōsokabe began to feel like it was okay to take a few liberties with the other's person. He would ruffle the other's hair when handing over the bento he had made, or give him a rough pat on the back when passing him in the school hallways, or give him a rough poke in the arm when he was tired of being ignored for too long.

"Mōri." When the one in question failed to respond, Chōsokabe's eye narrowed and he prepared his pointer finger for action. He went to jab the other's arm, but if he had been paying attention he would have realized that Mōri's arms were lifted slightly because he was holding a book. So instead of his arm, the poke landed on his side. Mōri flinched visibly, but didn't respond. Chōsokabe prepared his second pointer finger, and attacked. Doubling over slightly, Mōri tried to squirm away from the barrage of pokes, his grip on his book loosening as he did so. And what was that that was escaping quietly from between his lips? Was it, laughter? Was Mōri Motonari, the cold and heartless leader of the Wind Instrument Club, …ticklish? A devilish grin formed on Chōsokabe's face and he prepared all ten fingers for the assault.

"Ch-Cho hahaha, Chōsokabe, st-hahahahah," Mōri managed between fits of laughter. He had tried to push the other away, but the attack had caught him off guard, and now he was on his back, almost completely defenseless.

His Chōosokabe's hands brandished fingers that skittered over Mōri's stomach, before parting ways. One went to fend off the hands which were doing their best to hold him off while the other went from for an armpit, earning him a renewal of laughter. He never thought he would hear such jovial sounds bursting from between Mōri's lips, much less venture to think that he would be the one creating them, albeit forcibly. He paused for a moment, still hovering over Mōri as he gave him a breather.

Face flushed from laughter, Mōri looked up at him from behind his glasses, panting slightly. A blush rushed to the delinquent's face as well as he realized the compromising position he was now in. He practically had the brunette pinned down, his knees at either side of those sharp hips, and his hands now not too far from Mōri's face, keeping the taller of the two propped up.

Eyebrows furrowing slightly, Mōri watched this transformation occur to Chōsokabe's expression. The closeness of their faces made it easy to watch as that lone blue eye softened. It was strange, and Mōri instantly remembered that expression from the first time Chōsokabe had visited his room, when he had gone for those interesting purple scars. There had been something in his eye then that was there now, some want that Mōri had been unable to understand.

Oh.

_OH._

Chōsokabe had wanted, and currently wanted, to kiss him.

Mōri couldn't help but smile a little bit at this. If the fool wanted to kiss him so badly, he should have done something about it ages ago. He leaned up slowly, and ever so softly, placed a kiss on Chōsokabe's lips.

Opening his eyes as he let his head rest once more on the sheets of his bed, Mōri was pleased to see that the blush that had started on Chōsokabe's cheeks had now found its way to his ears, and left him looking a tad bit overwhelmed. That expression disappeared in the next second however, as Chōsokabe closed his eye and leaned down to return Mōri's kiss with one of his own. He was met half way, and the two gently pressed their lips against each other's. Mōri was surprised by how chaste the how thing was—there was no tongue play, or grinding, or desperate grabs—just the soft touching of lips.

When they finally broke apart, Chōsokabe crawled off him and lay down at his side. A long pause followed until the white haired man finally broke the silence: "So, Mōri…does this mean…we're dating?"

Mōri turned on his side so he could better assess the man laying next to him and responded: "Was that not your intension from the beginning?"

"Not at all, bro." Chōsokabe propped himself up on his elbow so that he could see Mōri better. "I may have been crushing on you really hard…" he paused here, embarrassed. "But as to whether or not those feelings were returned never had anything to do with why I was hanging out with you."

"You proposed to me." Mōri gave him a flat look, clearly not buying it.

"Of course I did!" Chōsokabe declared, looking proud. When Mōri continued to stare, the delinquent stumbled to find a way to explain himself. "I told you that I wanted to be the person who was always waiting for you, right? Marriage was the easiest way for me to make sure that I was always by your side."

Those thin lips that seemed to be forever pushed into a thin line jerked into a bit of a sardonic grin and his eyes seemed to narrow. "I have no need for other people in my life."

Chōsokabe scowled right back at him. "Don't be a fool, Mōri. Regardless of what you think, being alone forever will only leave you feeling empty." When Mōri only glared in response, Chōsokabe only sighed and sat up. "I just wanted you to not be all alone all the time."

Silence followed and the colder of the two began to wonder if the now sulking delinquent was going to leave. When he failed to do so, Mōri glanced over at him, mind in a mad scurry. He would never admit that he looked forward to seeing Chōsokabe every day, and that he had found that his moods had improved considerably over the past few months. He liked having someone there for him, it was true, but he the very last thing he ever wanted was to be dependent upon another person. He could and would do everything on his own.

But this, this thing he had going with Chōsokabe...

Hhe supposed it was worth giving a chance.,

Iif only because he didn't desire for it to end.

Taking a deep breath, Mōri reached out and touched Chōsokabe's shoulder. When the other had looked over, and their eyes met, Mōri put out the effort to lift the edges of his mouth ever so slightly. "You are allowed to call me your boyfriend, though I do believe it would be worthless to go throwing such knowledge around the school." He was rewarded with the biggest smile he had seen from Chōsokabe yet, and a crushing hug.

* * *

Mōri supposed he should have been disappointed by how quickly the days passed after that. Spring came and went and after bidding goodbye to a few valued Wind Instrument Club members and a few motorcyclists, Mōri and Chōsokabe became Third Year students. And of course with their final year of high school dawning, Mōri's scant free time became ever busier with college applications, while Chōsokabe spent most of his afternoons at his new part-time job saving up money to replace his bike – t. The wrecking of which was a terrible affair that he didn't like to talk about, only grinding his teeth and grumbling something about it at the student council. The short of the story was that neither got to see each other as much as Chōsokabe would have liked to admit.

Mōri would admit to it too, but only when Chōsokabe had him pinned down on his bed, and even then the answer needed to be tickled out of him.

When they were together though, they had taken up the habit of using nicknames. It had been Chōsokabe's idea; he wanted some sort of cute pet name for Mōri since they were "officially" going out now. Initially, Mōri had been against the idea, but he could only take Chōsokabe calling him "hunny buns" for so long before he snapped.

"Since you are so desperate for some sort of sickening name to indicate that you have staked your claim on me, you may call me "Nari," but only when we are in private," he finally ground out one day, looking over from another application he was writing to some university in Tokyo.

Chōsokabe's grin stretched from ear to ear, well aware that he had gotten what he wanted. Just to rub it in a little, he snuck an arm around "Nari's" shoulder, and asked: "So do I get a nickname then too, Nari~?"

Mōri sighed. "I suppose I could call just "Chika," to go with this theme."

"Oh~?" "Chika" practically purred. "I want to hear you call it out, desperate for me." He nuzzled his face into the soft of Mōri's exposed neck, a teasing grin on his lips.

Mōri's attempt to shove him away without dislodging the computer that rested precariously on his lap ended in failure, and he was pulled into Chōsokabe's lap-computer and all-where he stayed pouting while his boyfriend blew raspberries on his neck. In the end, he murmured a monotone "Chika," before placing a kiss on the white haired man's cheek.

* * *

Spring ended before Chōsokabe even knew it had begun, and summer heat hit him full force, making his part-time work (outside no less) painful, and the un-air conditioned classrooms unbearable. And worst of all, he had the sneaking suspicion that Mōri had managed to somehow get a tan before him. One day when delivering Mōri's bento, he had realized that the other looked slightly darker than usual. It wasn't a big deal, and Chōsokabe had chalked it up as his imagination at first, but as the days passed, and nothing seemed to change, he grew increasingly more curious.

He had not had a chance to see Mōri outside of school lately, so he had only seen him in his school uniform, which he still wore with long sleeves despite the ridiculous heat. This made investigating his tan theory difficult. He could creep behind Mōri as he walked him to his bike after Wind Instrument practice, and try to see if he had some sort of tan line on the back of his neck, but it wasn't as if Chōsokabe could just up and take off Mōri's clothes to search for clues. Further, he couldn't even begin to think of how the short brunette could have gotten darker. The heat didn't faze him, so he was rarely seen outside of his long sleeves and pants, and even if he was one to wear short sleeves, there was no time for him to get tan! Chōsokabe knew that Mōri was ridiculously busy these days—between being a top student, leading a club, and applying for college, he still managed to hold his part-time job.

The last of which was inside!

When had Mōri managed to get tan, and how had he managed it before Chōsokabe, who spent his afternoons laboring in the sun without his shirt? Despite all of the puzzling, Chōsokabe wasn't able to determine the truth, after all, he wasn't even sure if Mōri really was tan or not in the first place.

* * *

It was a late Sunday afternoon, and due to tests that week, the school had given the students Monday off. Though Tsuruhime had originally planned on a date with her beloved "Twilight Reporter," the latter had canceled last minute, and she had come banging on Chōsokabe's door with a sad face and the promise of fireworks and watermelon if he would unveil the "mindset of stupid shy guys" to her. He had agreed on the condition that Mōri must also be invited, and since the three still lived in the same neighborhood, walking to his house wasn't an issue at all. Convincing him to come hang out was another issue entirely, but Chōsokabe had quite a few tricks up his sleeve at this point, and Mōri was forced along in the end.

And that's how the three ended up in Tsuruhime's backyard (part of the shrine grounds really) munching on watermelon and waiting for it to get dark so they could pull out the fireworks.

They were all in summer clothes—Tsuruhime in a cute summer dress with a sun hat, and a pair of little sandals that seemed to entirely be made of tiny straps; Chōsokabe managed to get away with a pair of torn up jeans, a white tang top that looked suspiciously like the one he wore under his purple jacket at school, and flip flops; Mōri, on the other hand, was uncharacteristically undressed, with a t-shirt, shorts, a little green hat and a pair of _geta_. The thin legs that Chōsokabe had always envisioned to be a stark white were revealed to him for the first time, and he was able to confirm that Mōri was somehow tanner than him to his dismay.

The three (or more accurately two - Mori remained quiet most of the evening) chatted aimlessly as the sun slowly lowered itself over the horizon. The subject got on what Chosokabe was planning after he graduated, seeing as this was his last year of high school, and he paused for a moment, thinking.

"The guy in charge of the fishing place where I work right now said that he would love to hire me on full time as soon as I graduate, and—Mori?" He paused as Mori's fingertips suddenly made contact with his cheek.

"A watermelon seed," was Mori's succinct way of responding.

"Oh." That was all it took to distract the delinquent. Mori was right there, and wearing a silly little green hat to boot. He supposed it shouldn't be this easy to get him excited. The Rampaging Demon of Onigashima saw his counterpart almost every day, and whether it was passing in the halls, or stopping by his work to watch him make coffee, he always completely refrained from anything that was more than friendly. But god damn, Mori was so close now; he was just too tempting.

He must have been staring for a tad _too_ long because Tsuruhime cleared her throat and announced that she was going to get the fireworks.

The rest of the night went on without much of a hitch, though it took much of Chosokabe's self control to resist the urge to just reach out and touch Mori. But he doubted that the latter would appreciate such affections when it was more than the two of them, and he felt bad since Tsuruhime was the one who had invited him. Getting your smooch on wasn't a way to be a good guest.

They went through a whole box of fireworks, the type one buys at the 100 Yen shop, and finally they arrived at the fireworks always saved for very last, _senk__ō__ hanabi_. The chatter between the livelier of the two died down, and the three watched their sparkler like fireworks in relative silence.

_Mono no aware_, huh? Mori's thoughts trailed to the relative beauty of ephemeral things, and he couldn't help but wonder if his relationship with Chosokabe would be as fleeting. He knew that this had all started with the delinquent's desire for Mori to have someone waiting for him: a kind and almost innocent gesture. But Mori also knew that the other was not a man who thought things through. How would he wait for Mori to get out of class (college classes this time) if he were working a normal job? And how would they see each other if Mori was on the other side of the country, or perhaps across the ocean? There was no doubt Chosokabe had just assumed that things would work out, or had not even begun to worry about them in the first place.

He smirked as he watched the sparks fly from his slag. Yes, it seemed as though Mori would be the man who planned it all out. He was certain he would take his "rival" by surprise.

But first,

Leaning over with the same expression he seemed to always have, Mori startled the only man who would ever claim his friendship, and softly pressed his lips to his cheek. Surprise flittered over Chosokabe's face before resolve settled in. Tsuruhime was going to have to deal, because it had been weeks since he had last kissed his boyfriend. He titled his head so Mori would be kissing his lips instead of his cheek.

_TBC_


End file.
